Saving Us
by AndThenWeWere
Summary: Cedric Diggory has never met anyone like Fleur Delacour- her, with her long hair and shining eyes, her, with the endearing French accent and bubbly personality, her, with the scarred arms and thighs the size of her wrists. Her, with the secrets. Cedric/Fleur. No magic AU.


When Fleur Delacour, the new student, walks into Hogwarts Preparatory Academy, all eyes are on her. Nobody looks away. No one moves a muscle. Not even the teacher, Professor McGonagall, and she's been known to give out detentions and pink slips for even being a few moments late.

Fleur Delacour has arrived fifteen minutes tardy, and yet, she has a calm smile plastered onto her face. It's as if she knows that she won't get in trouble.

She doesn't. McGonagall sends her to a spare seat in the back, and no one looks away. Heads are craned and eyebrows are raised.

"Attention!" The aging professor cries, but no one's paying attention to her. Everyone's focused on the girl, who is tall and impossibly thin, bony thin, with honey colored hair and sparkling blue eyes. She has skin the color of paper. She's wearing shorts that expose the majority of her stick-like legs, the gap between her thighs a canyon, and a light pink tank top cut to show off her extremely flat stomach and the collarbones beneath her neck. Her shoes are platform, vintage trainers, which add extra inches to her already tall frame. She smells like perfume and cigarettes and cough drops.

Scars litter the insides of her arms and the tops of her knuckles.

"Well, pay attention!" Fleur cries, pointing to the chalkboard as she pulls out a robin's egg colored notebook and a set of black pens. Her voice is deep and slightly crackly and has a light French accent to it.

Although no one stares at her for the rest of the class, at least not publicly, the students' minds are far from the Trig that's written on the board.

* * *

><p>"So, what'd you think of the new girl?" Cedric Diggory's best mate, Casper Bell asks, grinning like he's just gotten into Oxford. Which, of course, wasn't happening. And he knew it never would. Casper's thick as molasses, and sometimes for that, Cedric is grateful. It makes him seem smarter.<p>

"She's okay. Seems a bit, well, sick, doesn't she?" He replies, opening his locker and pulling out his textbooks.

"In a good way," Casper says with a shrug, but Cedric rolls his eyes.

"I prefer Cho."

"You know she's got a thing for that Potter boy."

Even though he already knows it, Casper's words feel like a bee sting. He doesn't exactly like Cho Chang, but she's pretty and smart and exactly the type of girl his parents would want him to go for.

"I think she's gorgeous! Hey, Ced, want to ask her to eat lunch with us sometime?" Casper asks, but Cedric shakes his head.

"No."

"Aw, you're no fun!"

"I just... Don't want Cho to get the wrong idea." Casper looks at him, confused. "That I'm taken," Cedric admits. Although that's not it. He knows it isn't.

He just doesn't want to get involved with this Fleur omething-or-another. She's too much. She's like heroin while he's weed.

He knows it's strange. Because he likes Cho. He really does. Sort of.

Yet he can't get the stick thin girl with the golden hair and glimmering eyes out of his head.

* * *

><p><em>I got her number! – Casper<em>

_Who's? – Cedric_

_You know. Fleur's, of course! - Casper_

_Oh. That's great. You should text her. – Cedric_

_I don't want to. I'll give you her number; you text her and give her my number. Sound okay? – Casper_

_I'm not your messenger! – Cedric_

_Ok. Fine. – Cedric_

* * *

><p>He has her number, but he doesn't text it. He sits in his room, across from all of his triathlon trophies, and thinks. About her. About her whiskey voice and chapped lips and eyelashes covered in mascara. He thinks about her fingers, which are long and scrawny, and her cheekbones, which are jagged and ripping through her skin.<p>

She, even through her faults, is undeniably attractive.

It isn't just that, though. She's different. She's special.

He falls asleep smiling.

* * *

><p>The next day, Fleur arrives at school dressed in a pair of white cutoffs shorts that show the majority of her flat butt and a crop top that accentuates her cleavage. Her long hair is tied into a messy bun on top of her head, which reveals an ear covered in studs and hoops.<p>

She isn't anything like the other girls at Cedric's school. She's beautiful in an unconventional way, sexy in a slightly twisted way, and fashionable in a prostitute-esque sort of way.

Cedric smiles at her.

He can't help it. He's sitting next to her in Latin, drumming his pencil against his already stuffed to the brim notebook, when he decides to look over at her, and she's staring at him already. She's smiling, too, and it's crooked and different and Cedric finds himself grinning back.

She then begins to mouth something - 'hi' - and Cedric mouths a quick 'hey' back. Fleur's eyes are twinkling as she begins scribbling something down on a piece of paper, and minutes later, Cedric feels something land on his desk.

It's a note.

He looks over at her with raised eyebrows as he opens it up. It's a mere word long, but his heart soars when he reads it.

_'Lunch?'_ It asks.

He jots down a quick reply. _'You'll have to put up with Casper, but sure.'_

He folds it up again and hands it back over to her. Her face lights up as she reads it, and a light chuckle that sounds more like a cough escapes her lips. She seems to think for a second, before quickly writing something down. She passes him the note.

_'That's fine. Casper's cute.'_

Cedric bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Casper is many things, but cute is definitely not one of them. He's permanently scruffy, too tall and skinny to know how to function his limbs properly - not unlike Fleur, but she seems to know what she's doing - and yet, somehow, all the girls like him. Maybe it's his smile. He'd had braces, which is nice, because his teeth are all white and straight.

_'So you're one of those girls?'_ he writes.

Cedric hands it back to Fleur, and her smile falters slightly.

_'If you mean one of the girls that likes Casper, then no. Goodness!'_

The bell rings before Cedric can reply.

When he turns around to see where Fleur is, she's gone, and he rolls his eyes. He should have known it was a scam. After all, why would she ever want to eat with him?

* * *

><p>She's at his usual lunch table when he arrives, sitting between Casper and some other guy on the footie team - Seamus, or something like that. He feels strangely elated.<p>

"Hi," she says when he sees him, and he grins, setting his things down across from her. Casper's eyes look like they're about to bulge out of his head.

"How's your day been?" Cedric asks, pulling a sandwich out of his backpack and taking a bite.

"Erm-" Casper begins, but Fleur interrupts.

"Fantastic!"

Cedric bites so hard on his lip that it threatens to start bleeding.

* * *

><p>He still doesn't text her.<p>

She's like a spider. A crude, beautiful, broken spider, one with scarred arms and collarbones of poles, her, with her milk colored skin and flowing hair and cracked, contagious laugh.

He's falling into her trap, her web. He's only known her a day or two, but he knows her ways. He's seen her flirt incessantly, her smile so obviously fake, not quite reaching her eyes. He's seen her laugh a throaty, deep laugh, one meant to woo, not one from the heart. He's seen the shorts she wears and the stomach she exposes and he wonders if he's just another pawn in her game.

* * *

><p><em>Hi!<em>

_Who is this? - Cedric_

_This is Fleur, obviously - Fleur_

_Of course. How did you get my number? Was it Casper? I bet it was Casper. Sorry about that. You don't have to text me. – Cedric_

_I WANT to text you, doofus. And yeah, it was Casper. We were texting. Seems kind of dim, doesn't he? – Fleur_

_Haha, he is, but don't tell him I said that. He's just a bit deprived, I guess. –Cedric_

_Deprived? –Fleur_

_Yeah, his parents split up when he was little. They don't really care about him, aren't going to send him to uni or anything like that, so he doesn't really think it's important to try. He's always been like that. Don't tell him I told you that, either….. – Cedric_

_Don't worry, your (or his, I guess) secrets are safe with me. But what's up? – Fleur_

_Nothing right now. Just finishing up the English essay, but I'm nearly done. – Cedric_

_Wanna come over? – Fleur_

_Fleur… –Cedric_

_I mean it! It'll be fun, we can watch a movie. Anyway, I'm taken. – Fleur_

_All right, then. Address? – Cedric_

* * *

><p>Cedric pulls up to Fleur's house a few hours later. The sun is setting, and he's lucky his parents aren't home, because they would have thrown a fit if he had gone over to some girl's house when it was getting dark.<p>

But Fleur is different. As she had so eloquently put a few minutes ago, she's taken, and Cedric can't help but wonder who the lucky man is.

She opens the door before he reaches it.

"Cedric, hi! Come in, it's getting chilly." She steps aside, allowing Cedric access to her small but comfortable looking house.

She walks over to the kitchen, smiling.

"So, this is it! What do you think?" She exclaims, twirling around slightly on the slippery wood.

Cedric gulps. She's wearing a baggy t-shirt, a pair of leggings, and fluffy socks. And when he looks at her back, there's no sign of a bra.

"Fleur, maybe I should go-"

"Nonsense, you just got here! Let's watch a movie, no? What'll it be? There's Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, something about training dragons, Sherlock Holmes," she reads off, and Cedric stands in her living room, awkwardly. He knows that his conscious had gotten the best of him - after all, he's standing in a strange girl's house, she's not wearing a bra, and she wants to watch a movie.

He wonders if this is code for something.

He wonders if he'd mind if it were.

"Erm, well, I always liked Sherlock Holmes," he stutters, picking the one with the least bit of romance possible. Fleur grins.

"Perfect! I love it, too. Come on, the TV's over here. You turn it on, I'll make popcorn."

* * *

><p>Two hours and one movie later, Cedric hugs Fleur goodbye, thanking her. He's glad that, really, all they did was watch a movie.<p>

But as he walks away, down her driveway and towards his car, still watching her, he can't help but notice the dark bags that nestle under her eyes. She looks tired and worn down, but she's smiling, and not for the first time since meeting her, Cedric wonders if there's more to the grinning, gorgeous, sassy blonde than meets the eye.

* * *

><p>He sees her again and again at school.<p>

Although sometimes she sits with a group of gossiping bitches at lunch, she usually sits with him and Casper and Seamus, who he's grown to like.

And he honestly likes Fleur, too. She's funny and bright and smart and sexy, but he knows they'll never be more than friends. Which is okay with him, at least he thinks. He doesn't like her romantically, or maybe he does, but he wants her in ways he can't explain.

He wants to know the real Fleur, because he knows the one he sees isn't the one that's on the inside.

He notices how sunken her eyes are beginning to look, and how, if possible, she's gotten skinner, for her arms are the size of twigs, her thighs are the size of her wrists, and her jawline is more prominent. Her skin looks stretched. Her hair is getting thinner, but blonder, and she stays beautiful all the same.

He's just glad there are no new additions to her white line flagged arms.

* * *

><p>"Cedric!"<p>

Someone's calling his name. He can recognize the raspy, happy sounding voice anywhere, and he turns around, Fleur out of breath and next to him.

"I've been calling you for an age! God!" She cries, leaning against the lockers, taking gigantic breathfuls of air. Cedric sighs and runs a hand through his light brown hair.

"Sorry, I'm just tired."

It's true. He is tired. But Fleur looks infinitely more so.

"I know the feels."

She does.

"Anyway, want to do something after school today?" Cedric asks, and Fleur's eyes light up.

"Definitely! What'd you want to do?"

"I don't know. Um, get ice cream? Catch a movie? Shop?" He suggests, although he cringes at the last one. Him and shopping are like heaven and hell. They don't match. They never will.

Fleur laughs loudly.

"Yeah, let's go dress shopping. I daresay I need a new one."

The two of them chuckle.

"What about we just go for a walk, then, downtown? It'll be nice, maybe we can buy some stuff alone the way," Cedric tries, hoping she'll agree. She does, and he feels accomplished.

He wonders if she agrees that quickly with all the other guys she flirts with.

* * *

><p>She meets him outside the cafeteria after school. She looks dazed, slightly dizzy, like standing is too much effort. Cedric thinks he knows how he feels, but he doesn't. He never will, and he knows that, too.<p>

"Cedric!" She exclaims, throwing a weightless arm over his shoulder and resting it on top of his backpack.

"Hey, so, where do you want to go first?" Cedric asks, slipping his hands in his pockets and trying to contain a smile.

Truly, he loves Fleur's personality more than he loves her body or her face. It's contagious and heartwarming and he lives for it.

"Let's take the tube down to Trafalgar Square! I think I have enough money, too, for us to rent those bikes, you know, the pay by the hour ones? Mmmm, and I can smell the bakeries already," she says, and her enthusiasm is so great that Cedric can't help but comply.

He knows that something's wrong when her face gets paler than it already is.

The sun's shining, casting golden rays across her striped, ripped, miniskirt and silvery halter top, when he sees her blanch slightly. Suddenly, he notices how her cheekbones and jawline look as if they're about to rip out of her slightly pasty skin.

In that moment, she isn't beautiful.

She looks sick. She looks like she's dying. Her eyes are glassy, her arms and legs are shaking slightly, and her skin is icy to the touch.

"Fleur," Cedric says slowly, drawing out the word and resting the palm of his hand against her forehead, "is everything okay?"

He wants her to answer. He wants her to answer with all the things she hasn't told him. He wants her to tell him the truth, because she knows that she's a lie. He wants her to tell her that no, she's not okay, and that she needs to go home.

"I'm fine."

Cedric grabs her hand, and he can feel the blood pumping through her veins. Her fingers are half the size of his. He stares at the lines on her arms, and although she tries to pull away, he keeps her still. Tears leak out from her eyes and he rubs his thumb against hers.

"Fleur, tell me that you need to go home." His voice is stern and full of warning and when Fleur looks up, the blush from her cheeks is gone.

"Cedric," she whispers, maintaining eye contact with him, "I need you to take me home."

And so he does.

* * *

><p>He sits on the couch next to her, Fleur covered in blankets. Her hair's tied back into a messy ponytail, her lips pale now that the lipstick's rubbed off.<p>

It's the first time Cedric's seen her without makeup. He notices she has a few acne scars on her forehead, that a few freckles dot her cheeks, and that her eyes aren't nearly and big and wide without her gloppy eyeliner. She looks stunning.

"Don't know what that was," she finally comments.

Cedric does.

"Fleur, you need to eat. I'll make you anything you want, I swear, I will. Just eat something. For me."

He stares into those makeup free eyes of hers, and he sees her breaking a little inside. She looks away and stares down at her tea.

"Okay. I want a bagel," she replies softly, and Cedric smiles.

He makes her a bagel, and she eats it.

* * *

><p>They fall asleep, together, Fleur's head resting against Cedric's chest. He holds her wrist, his fingers gently tracing the veins that run up and down her arm, the steady beat of her heart filling his body.<p>

He has his other arm wrapped around her shoulder, drawing her close to him, her legs thrown over his lap. She's light as a feather with the bones of a bird.

She talks in her sleep.

She mumbles something about his name, London, and love, all morphed together. It makes no sense, but Cedric listens to it anyway. It's like a lullaby, and the sound of her voice eventually draws him out of consciousness as he drifts off into his own dreams.

* * *

><p>The next day is Saturday, and Cedric's parents are coming home from another one of their business trips.<p>

His goodbye to Fleur is quick and rushed, but what he feels is not. He wants to stay with her all day. He wants to talk to her and listen to music with her and watch movies with her and make her eat. He wants her to be safe and sound and he knows that she will be if he's with her.

She's smiling as he leaves, but she looks sad.

She looks needing, because the very thing that keeps her heart beating is driving away.

* * *

><p>He sees her again at school, talking to some girl named Lavender. The second her eyes lay on his, though, she comes running over, grinning.<p>

"Hey!" She cries, hugging him. Cedric hugs back, breathing in the smell of her cheap perfume and lord knows what else.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" He asks, and she shrugs.

"Boring. Mum and Dad were out, again, so mostly I watched telly," she responds, quickly flipping her hair over and drawing it into a messy bun. It looks perfect.

"Cool. I'll see you at lunch?" Cedric rushes out, for the bell has rung. Fleur nods excitedly.

In that moment, Cedric knows he is the luckiest man in the world.

* * *

><p>She's radiant as they walk home together.<p>

Cedric is going to introduce her to his parents - it's a Monday afternoon, and Fleur's dressed more decently than usual - a short aqua skirt, a skin tight white t-shirt, and a pair of beat up black Converse. Giant gold hoops dangle from her ears and a stack of Indian style bangles adore both of her wrists.

As they walk up to his house, Fleur suddenly looks nervous.

"Are you sure they're going to like me?" She asks, making a face. Cedric laughs, because he knows they won't.

"Of course."

Fleur looks relieved, and the two walk inside together.

They're greeted at the front door by his mum and dad, middle aged, business attired, glasses wearing people in their late forties, smiles forced and spread a bit too wide.

"So, you must be Fleur," Cedric's mum says through a toothy grin.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you both," Fleur replies, sticking out her hand and shaking both of theirs. Cedric's pleased. She's doing well.

"Well, it's nice to meet you too. You can come inside."

It feels like Cedric's got an A on a test, and in a way, he has. Obviously, his parents are impressed, and that's a rare feat to conquer.

Cedric remembers life before Fleur.

It's hard to recount those days, when uni and Casper and getting through the day were the only things he cared about.

Now, though, it's so much different. It's so much more, and he has a certain French, blue eyed, blonde haired best friend to thank.

They hang out most days after school. They sit together at lunch, Casper and Seamus mostly forgotten. They pass notes in class (at least during the ones they have together) and slowly, Fleur's weight is returning, making her sexier than ever. Her scars are slowly fading.

And although Cedric doesn't look any different, he knows he's changed, too.

Fleur saved him, and his only hope is that he saved her, too.

* * *

><p>They first kiss on a windy afternoon in February. The air is biting and chilly, but they are out and about, walking through the crowded streets of London, fingers twisted together.<p>

They are laughing about something, but all of a sudden, Fleur's smile freezes.

"What's wrong?" Cedric asks, moving closer to her, studying her face like a book.

"Nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing," she breathes, and she's a shining, beautiful, glowing angel. Her long blonde hair is flying out behind her, and her cheeks are rosy from the cold. She's perfect, and Cedric wonders how he couldn't have admitted it to her, or himself, before. He loves her with every ounce of his soul and his heart and then some, because that's what true love is.

He loves that she's beautiful, oh yes, but it's _so much more than that. _It's everything about her, it's _every last thing._ He loves her laugh, her smile, her personality, her _very existence. _He doesn't care that she's a little bit broken, and _God, _he loves her through her secrets.

They kiss. It feels like everything he's never had, everything he's ever wanted, everything that he needs. She tastes like peppermints and smoke and oranges, all of his favorites. She tastes like love and warmth and _Fleur_.

Cedric asks if she's still taken. She laughs as if she's heard a joke.

"Hell, no!"

* * *

><p>He loves her, because she's his savior, the very thing that brings the meaning to his life. And, the great thing is, she loves him too, right back. He adores being able to look at her and call her his.<p>

But, as he figures out, he didn't save her and she didn't save him.

They saved each other.


End file.
